


Humiliation

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Memories, Choking, Coercion, Episode: s13e21 Beat the Devil, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Incest Mention, M/M, Manipulation, Mentions of graphic violence, Misgendering, POV Sam Winchester, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester Whump, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Violence, Violent Fantasies, Violent Thoughts, Vomiting, Whumptober 2019, drug mention, he just unfortunately says them out loud, not Sam's, rape jokes, they're Lucifer's violent fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: After Lucifer resurrects Sam in 13x21 "Beat the Devil" he has an order he wants him to fulfill.





	Humiliation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 25 of Whumptober 2019.  
Prompt: humiliation
> 
> There is a part where it may seem like I'm implying where Wincest fic writers are demons, and I want y'all to know that's 100% Lucifer just going off about demons and has nothing to with my view on other members of the fandom. I share no connections with Lucifer's beliefs with _anything_.

“So, Sammy, here’s the deal,” Lucifer began, “I brought you back, so I own you. Again.” He smiled, tongue coming out to lick his lips, delighted. He shifted where he stood, almost as if he was going to start dancing.

He and Sam were no longer in the cave he’d brought him back in, and he’d gotten him away from the vampires that had killed him. They were walking, side by side, Lucifer’s arm around him possessively. Sam wanted to throw up, had earlier, and Lucifer had laughed, rubbing his back, which had made him retch more. And now he’d tried shifting away from him, but he’d just grabbed his hip or his ass, and brought him closer. He’d also reminded him of how grateful he should be, and that Jack was _their_ son. God, their son. It was so wrong. Jack was Sam’s, wasn’t he? He had to be. DNA didn’t mean anything. Not really. It was parentage. That was what Bobby had taught him all those times John had ditched him at the old hunter’s house after leaving him in a motel alone with Dean for days, weeks, or using him as bait.

“So once we get Jack, he gets his present of his favorite parent back, and I thought, well, we make it just like old times again. Huh? You and me?”

“Never.”

“Alright, then.”

Quick as lightning, Lucifer grabbed Sam by the neck, and slammed him down against the ground. His mouth was open with arousal as he stared down at him, and Sam knew if he managed to look lower there’d surely be a bulge in his jeans. But Sam was too busy being unable to breathe, his throat aching. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he clutched at his hands desperately, legs kicking.

“You can just die again,” he told him.

Sam wanted to reason that Lucifer wouldn’t have his gift for Jack, but he supposed he knew that. He was just doing this to Sam to make him compliant, like some game of chicken with death, trying to see who would give in first.

Sam refused to give in, not to him, not after being brought back in the cave. He’d shown weakness too recently, gone back to the raw, skinless, trembling, and violated creature that Lucifer had turned him into all those years ago.

But now it seemed like not much time had passed since then.

It was right on the surface, and he was right here, ready to do it all over again.

Sam began to black out, and the hand released his throat. The Devil let out a huge sigh, and stepped away from him.

“Oh my Dad, you’re no fun. I miss our holy poker times. You know, the good ol’ days where I’d give you a nice _big_ reminder that I was around and you’d scream and try to keep your skirts down.” 

He laughed to himself, and Sam grimaced at the awful words, and the memories they were bringing up. Even without him touching him, he could feel it, and there was pressure against his ass. Whether it was physically happening in this moment or not his head thought it was very real.

Lucifer offered out a hand to help him up, Sam spat at it, and Lucifer nonchalantly sniffed his now-wet palm and ran his tongue along it as Sam got to his feet. Sam curled his lip at him, disgusted, and then he was forced to walk alongside him once more.

“Okay, so maybe you don’t want to be my bunk buddy. I get it, we have to catch up. So here’s what you missed about me. I fucked Jack’s mom, obviously, well, she didn’t know it was me. Does that count as rape? Sammy, you know all about rape, right? That’s rape, isn’t it?” Sam growled at him, a deep rumble in his chest. Lucifer just put his hand under his shirt, fingers against the skin of his hip, and he shivered. “Ah, well, so I raped her, got the bitch pregnant, she had Jack, and then I was with your mother. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch her. I mean, I wanted to. Like, wow, Mama Bear. You came from her. What a womb. With a knife you think I can get past her cervix, really _get in there_?”

Sam just wanted to tell him to stop, to shut up. In fact, he wanted to sit down on the dirt path, cover his ears, and scream himself hoarse. He wanted all this to stop. Maybe it would have been better if he was still lying dead in that cavern, his throat ripped out.

God, like this he didn’t want to be around anyone, didn’t want to see Jack, and unbidden, what Lucifer spoke of was coming to mind.

“Then you know, I didn’t really have my Grace, my bad. Saw you a few times, but sadly not long enough for a quickie. Plus Dean would make a bad audience member, don’t you think? Too chatty. But if I cut out his tongue… Ha! I could wear it as a necklace, maybe even slap it against your face. What do you think? You like his tongue? I know how my demons talk about you two. Though, to be honest, I think they just like writing all the smut fanfiction ‘cause you two aren’t actually gonna bone down. But _imagine_. Ooh, the testosterone. And deep down inside, somewhere in that black part of your soul that’s been infected since birth I’m sure you’ve got an incest kink.”

“Stop,” Sam got out, saliva welling up in his mouth, sour bile in the back of his throat.

“Oh, you want me to stop? Okay, tell me about how it’s been for you. So there was that mess with the British Men of Letters, right? You met that woman… uh, what was her name? Toni?”

Knowing that Lucifer would surely sense it if he lied, Sam answered truthfully, words dead, hollow, and bitter in his mouth, “She tortured and raped me.”

“What a bitch!” Lucifer exclaimed. “Look at her, getting all the fun. God, I should rip her head off.”

“Ketch killed her,” Sam supplied.

“Lucky bastard.”

“Then Dean killed Ketch.”

Lucifer waved his hand. “Small potatoes.” He leaned against his shoulder, hand traveling up his torso. “Tell me about you.”

“I… I looked after Jack.”

“Get any fucking in on the side, I don’t know, any demonic babysitters?”

Sam eyed him harshly, sweat dripping off his chin, to patter into his clothes, or against the forest floor.

“No,” he answered harshly, defensively. “Never.”

“Rub one out?”

“Yes,” he admitted, defeated.

He didn’t like when he masturbated, but even he wasn’t immune to bodily functions and libido, and would awake hard sometimes. His nightmares of Lucifer often had the same effect as well. His body couldn’t differentiate between his wet dreams and his trauma nightmares at times. Blood pumping, the touch of skin, pleasure, it was about the same to his body, wanted or unwanted.

Sometimes his head drifted to Ruby, or Toni in his sleep, maybe Jess, or a random woman he’d been with before. A couple of times it’d even been with Rowena. Sometimes for weeks at a time it’d be overwhelmingly Lucifer, though Sam had no inclinations to be with a man like his brother. Sex was all confusing in his head. There was pleasure, there was pain, there were questions about boundaries, and what he truly enjoyed, what he was comfortable with, and whether or not he actually liked his body. How could he like a body that hadn’t even been built for him? And how could he like it now when it was smeared with blood and had been brought back just to be used by his owner, the Devil? Again?

“Good, good, so you still got that fire in ya. I like it.”

It was humiliating talking about all this with him, and his cheeks were burning red, even up to his ears. His neck was flushing, and he was feeling much too hot. He couldn’t look at anything but the path before them. But now he was stumbling, ringing in his ears.

Then, he heard a question, that was surely more of a request, “Why don’t you show me?”

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, mouth going dry. He tried to swallow, but it seemed as if his body forget how to function. His legs were tingling, almost numb, and they weakened immensely.

Sam tried to lift his head up, to look at Lucifer, who came around to stand in front of him, but he couldn’t do it. Just barely reached his chin with his eyes.

His legs started shaking, and he put his hands on his knees, bending over. Lucifer moved back to let him do so, and he was taking in deep breaths, head swirling, stomach roiling. Heat ran through to his gut, and lower, in dark anticipation.

Surely he couldn’t…

But no, this was Lucifer.

Mortification shoveled out the soul that had just been put back in his body.

“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna touch your, or not your dick anyway. Just you touching you.”

Tears stung in Sam’s eyes, saliva dribbled out over his mouth, dripping to the ground.

“It’s humiliating!” he screeched.

“Kinda the point.”

Lucifer took a step towards him, hands out, but not in a harmless, defenseless gesture, and Sam lurched, made his way over to a tree to brace himself. He was throwing up again, but there was hardly anything in his stomach left. Blood came up, his digestive passages rubbed raw from the vomiting he’d already done.

Before he could stop shaking or fully get himself under control, a hand was on his shoulder, pressing him back against the tree, and he was whimpering.

“I’ll just kill you, bring you back again. I can eat angels, keep this up. We’ll still get Jack. Or if you like, I won’t even kill you. I’ll just give Jack the whole sex talk, and tell him I fucked you and you liked it. I’ll tell Dean too, let him know that’s why you’re being such an obedient little bitch.”

“Dean’ll never believe you.”

“Yeah, but Jack might, and after the sex talk? He’ll be horrified. Or… I could leave you here, let the vampires get you, and I take Jack from you forever, kill your family, and uh… who knows? Maybe you’ll never see human civilization again. After all the angels are winning. And oh, what if the vampires don’t get you? Maybe you live, and this world’s Michael would like you as a slave. You know, you’ve got good muscle definition, good holes and all, gorgeous hair. I heard he likes to keep ‘em drugged up.” He flicked Sam’s arm at the crook of his elbow. “How do you feel about needles? And maybe he’ll figure out what really makes you tick and he’ll give you a demon or two. You can slurp ‘em on up.”

“Fine!” Sam yelled, just wanting him to shut up, not liking any of the scenarios he painted out for him. “Fine, just stop.”

“Really?” he asked, blue eyes bright, eager.

Sam snarled at him, but wasn’t willing to say more. God, why couldn’t Lucifer just beat him to a pulp? Or burn him? Why couldn’t he _do something_ to make him fall under his control? Why did he have to already have a rope tight around his throat, and a hand yanking him around by the dick?

If there were injuries on him at least there’d be evidence that it wasn’t his fault, right?

But this way… This way it was his fault.

It was all his fault.

Sam heaved out a huge breath, looked Lucifer in his ice blue eyes, and his next intake of air was frigid in his lungs.

“Hit me,” he demanded.

Lucifer pulled his head back, startled. “Excuse me?”

“Hit me,” Sam asked, voice weaker this time, softer.

“Sam, I’m not gonna hit you. That’s so last year. And come on, why weren’t you kinky like this when we were bunk buddies? You’re such a let down. So just rub one out and we can get on our way. You want to add fingering in too, or you good?”

“N-no,” Sam got out, straightening. His muscles tensed, trying to hold back the feeling of flesh slipping inside of him.

The Devil shrugged. “Your loss.”

Breathing hard, chest aching, fingers tingling, Sam started undoing his belt. Lucifer watched, a salacious smile on his face, tongue coming out to trail over his bottom lip. And then his mouth stayed open, hungry. Sam shuddered, and tried to shift away. Lucifer solved that problem by grabbing his reddened, aching neck and backing him against the tree. He tilted his head up at him though he was a few inches shorter.

“Easy, Sammy,” he breathed, voice gravelly. “Just give me what I want, and everything goes smoothly.”

Sam’s upper lip trembled, mouth opening as his breath caught in his throat. And then he exposed himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, a tear sliding free, when he felt his hand against his skin. It was cold from having been in the cool air, and the wind, but his length was warm. And Lucifer grumbled, seemingly upset that he was soft.

“Need some help?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, words biting.

But really, he wasn’t fine. Sweat was building on his forehead, getting into his brows, and his body was heating up in the most uncomfortable way. It wasn’t sexual, it was from sheer humiliation, and horror.

The hold on his neck softened, and then fingers trailed along his skin. Goosebumps rose up along his flesh, and he winced at the quivering that started up in his gut. Lucifer ran his thumb along his adam’s apple.

“There we go, Sammy. That’s it. I always did remember the faces you made when you started feeling ready for a good fuck. But not this time, okay? Just you. But you last awhile, huh? Got any good memories to keep it going? Come on, I want to hear them.”

Sam tilted his head, a harsh smile alighting his face, barely reaching up into his cheeks. “You know that’s not gonna work.”

“Worth a shot.”

Cold lips whispered across his skin as Sam tried in vain to make himself hard, just so he could get through this, get it over with, but numbness and instinct had yet to take over his body. God, he wished it would, and he would blame himself later, hate himself when his family was safe. Then he could scratch his skin off, then he could burn himself in the shower, then he could cry from how mortifying this was. Then he could find an elastic, snap it against his skin over and over again. He’d had to do that a lot when he’d been with Ruby.

Lucifer nipped at him, a growl rising in his throat, and memories rushed through Sam’s head, all the other times Lucifer had done such a thing to him, or even just grabbed at his throat with his teeth, bitten down, bruising him, his hands on his body, his cock inside him.

Oh, fuck. Heat plunged through him, delicious and tingling like sweet caresses, but then it ran up into his pelvis and seemed to grip him hard, tugging. Sam opened his mouth, voice coming out hard and accented on his exhale. Oh god, he was hardening. Cold hands were undoing the buttons on his shirt, and panic rose up into his throat, but still there was that mouth against his skin.

Sam growled, and ran his thumb over the head of his cock, slicking himself up with his own precum.

He dared to open his eyes, looked up at the bare trees, the gray sky. He saw Lucifer’s head, and he had a thought of grabbing it, slamming it into a tree, and then twisting till his neck snapped.

If he could just finish this, get this done quickly…

A hand was under his t-shirt now, running through the hair on his body, pressing hard against his muscles, circling his nipples, but not pinching. It made Sam arch his back.

“How’s that?” Lucifer asked. “You missed me, huh?”

Sam didn’t answer, and he was slapped in the face, lightly, more a sexual degradation than harsh violence.

He tried to reach out with his teeth, to bite, but Lucifer grabbed his jaw, slamming his head back against the bark. Sam winced. But his hand kept pumping. It was the only thing he could keep on doing right now, even as his skin crawled, and he wanted to hide himself. God, he never wanted anyone to see him ever again. Just the mere memory of this would be too much to continue existing. He was disgusting, humiliating.

To think that Dean cared about him, that Cas did, that Jack…

Oh god, Jack had no right being in his head during this, of ever being in his thoughts. Sam shouldn’t even know him because of this.

The kid was too good.

Sam should’ve stayed dead.

“Answer the question,” he ordered, words heavy, dripping with the need for insubordination.

“Yes,” Sam lied, hating how low his voice was. Even if it was a lie, it seemed as if his body was telling the truth. Perhaps he had missed him. Even now he had phantom sensations of the fleshy, but hard, head of Lucifer’s cock pressing against his rim, forcing entry. The pressure had Sam bucking his hips.

Lucifer looked downward, seemingly pleased, and he went back to caressing Sam, even going so far as to putting his fingers in his mouth.

Sam wanted to bite him, he really did. But biting him would be bad. If he showed any sign that he wasn’t going to cooperate punishment would befall his family, or worse punishment could fall on him.

He was Lucifer’s slave, brought back by him like he’d promised all those years ago, owned by him, his to humiliate.

Lucifer grabbed the waistband of Sam’s pants, which had slipped lower, and he tugged it down, and then grabbed hard at his ass, pulling him into him. Oh god, the Devil was hard too.

Sam whimpered, but Lucifer didn’t do anything to him, and Sam felt like a baby for being so terrified. 

Lucifer was having his fun with him, getting to know how his body had changed after leaving the Cage, leaving Sam open to him, and he was engulfed in memories of getting raped by him. And there were the memories of just pleasure, where it didn’t hurt, where Lucifer had slid into him easily, where his cock would twitch with excitement, his balls tensing and lifting as they were doing now. There was just liquid fire.

He squeezed himself hard, almost too hard, beat at himself, hating himself, hating Lucifer, even hating God, hating everything.

Pleasure gushed through into his gut, but he wasn’t at his peak yet. He was too tense in Lucifer’s arms, not relaxed enough to do this on his own.

Long minutes passed, and Sam was sweating furiously, cock aching from his rough treatment of himself, and how long he’d been aroused.

Lucifer pulled away, realized it wasn’t working, and Sam fell back against the tree, releasing himself, and supported himself with his arms. He was shaking, knees weak.

“Disappointing,” he commented.

Lucifer stared at his reddened cock, still hard, precum dripping from the end of it. It twitched, and Sam winced at the sensation that sent up into his stomach, the lightheadedness it drove through him. His balls ached.

“Well, put that thing away, Sammy. We don’t have all day.”

His cheeks burned with Lucifer talking as if this had been his idea, his want, his need all along. He wanted to yell at him, to shout, but all he did was fix his clothes. He tried to wipe his hand off on some bark as he passed it by, and then they were on their way again.

Walking hurt for a bit, but soon it faded, and Sam’s body relaxed once more.

In his chest where any sense of dignity, self respect, self esteem, purpose, or confidence had once been there was just a hole. The edges of it were cold, crackled with ice, and yawned like the pit he’d fallen into all those years ago in Stull Cemetery. It was just Lucifer now.


End file.
